Forty Three Weeks Gestational Age
by Cuccino2002
Summary: Written for the Quiddich fanfic competition, Round 11. It's another ordinary day in the lives of the midwifery team. They are delivering yet another overprivileged pureblood. No big deal...so why does it feel so monumental?


**Title: Forty-Three Weeks Gestational Age.**

ROUND 11: All through the Years

SEEKER: write about an ordinary day

**Authors notes**: Written for the Quiddich fanfic competition. Our prompt is Wigtown Year: 1951 (hot damn, you'll see why). God, please let me be #1 so I win a latte from Ladyfun! (Although I think she should buy me one anyway since her ass dragged me into this).

**Authors' notes 2:** okay so our year is actually 503 BC. Oopes! Revision below:

* * *

><p><em>Healer Mugwump McKlarken headed over to the daunting residence, looking up and swallowing. He looked at his two young female assistants, going into the midwifery trade; he was one of the few males that would actually precept female students, so he always seemed to have a full crew in tow. But he realized times were changing; after all, the muggles had invented something called an "oral contraceptive" this month; it would supposedly prevent pregnancy!<em>

_He grimaced, as that was not the obvious case here. They were called, as their obstetrics patient had finally – finally! Gone into labor, after 43 weeks of gestation._

_Talk about a theatrical entrance! Whomever this baby was destined to be clearly realized the importance of a fashionably late appearance._

_Today, the group of five had dwindled to two…primarily because of the patient involved. He looked at the two brave souls that had decided to brave the journey and face the wrath of the truly unpleasant job ahead._

_Then again, he always knew young Poppy Pomfrey and Marsha Curie both had the right stuff._

_They would need it._

_He cleared his throat, and knocked the ostentatious knocker on the heavy, unfriendly door that oozed gloom. A haggard house elf opened the door._

_"Healer McKlarken?"_

_"Indeed!" He said, his best attempt to sound cheery._

_"Come." The house elf gestured. "Master Cygnus is expecting you, he sends his regrets. He is … detained.."_

_The party of three were led to the bedroom of the lady of the manor, the beautiful but chillingly cold Druella Black, nee Rosier. It was impossible not to appreciate her beauty, even in this pregnant state, but it was clearly a burden to be endured, and wholly undignified._

_She huffed when she saw the two trainees._

_"Really, Mugwump? You had to bring the amaturs?"_

_"We call them trainees, Madame. And we discussed this, already. How are you feeling, Dru?"_

_"Like I am going to urinate a watermelon through my ladyparts."_

_He chuckled. "That's an accurate description."_

_The head healer reviewed the four states of labor with the two rapt students, and they had managed to stop Druella from being in too much pain from labor. Her contractions were close together; she was fully dilated to ten centimeters. The little wizard or witch would be along…any day, now._

_When they had finally relaxed the woman who had been laboring for 5 hours, so far, that was the time when the door to the bedroom burst open and the rather boisterous and somewhat drunken voice of Cygnus Black the 3rd rang out._

_"Good afternoon, McKlarken, guess what? I saw a seerer, and they told me that today will be born onto the House of Black a child who will become one of the most famous warriors that Wizarding Britain will have…dare I say, the most legendary duelists, of all time!"_

_He slapped the healer, roughly, on the back._

_"So what's say you get my son out of that woman, there, so I can take a look at him?"_

_Healer McKlarken only grimaced. God help this poor child, he thought to himself._

_After another two hours of painful labor, Cygnus had lost interest and "retired" to the study, also known as drinking scotch with his brother and brother in law._

_They could hear his increasingly drunken boasts about his "future warrior son" and the fact pureblood England would need such a soul, given that muggles had just developed something called a "breeder reactor," which converted uranium to plutonium and made some type of muggle exploding device that they had been testing in Nevada. It was only a matter of time before they felt empowered enough to try it against magic folk – and the sons of the good families of England would be the ones to take a stand and eliminate the muggle threat._

_They were vile creatures, really, the muggles. It was bad enough Hogwarts and Durmstrung both had allowed non-magical wizards to matriculate; it was only a matter of time._

_"Oh my …. It's ….crowning….." Apprentice Pompfrey noted, with excitement._

_The amnionic sac pushed out and ruptured. The most beautiful head was sticking out, trying to make its way into the world. They delivered the most beautiful baby, with gorgeous black hair like Cygnus Black's crown; and then the cry, that was distinctly…_

_Female._

_"What was that?" Cygnus said, his voice as cold as night. "Wait here." He instructed his brothers._

_He marched into the room. "What did I hear? I did** not** hear a boy's cry!" He was ruddy red in the face._

_"You have a healthy baby, Cygnus, congratulations! Nine pounds, and ten ounces! Your baby is very healthy and robust. It's a gift."_

_The healer had seen so many pregnancies go...differently. Ironic that even the greatest witch and wizard could not undo the powerful force that is medicine, science, and mother nature. Truthfully, he was glad. Once idiots like Cygnus Black III can start dictating who and what gets born, the world would become a most boring place._

_He looked at the baby as though he had been set on fire. " A girl?" He said, in shock. "I don't understand….it's …. It's a girl."_

_Drucella held the beautiful girl to her chest, glaring at him, fiercely. "Yes, and she is beautiful!" The look on her face dared him to criticize the gorgeous baby. She kissed her head, tenderly. " She is perfect…she is magical.. she completes me. And I shall name her...Bellatrix."_

_"Bellatrix?"_

_"Yes. Aggrippia."_

_"Aggripia? I thought you said Bellatrix...?"_

The name came again, this time, more forcefully. "Aggrippia! Wake up!"

Now she was being actively shaking. "My lady! Madame Aggrippia!"

A beautiful dark haired women roused. "What is it, Eubes?"

The servant looked at her ill charge, sick and with child. Eubes couldn't hide the fear. "The Romans are invading!"

"Wha-?" Aggrippia looked around. There was no healthy baby, no team of healers. There was just the panicked eyes of her servant, pulling her urgently from her slumber to retreat.

She gathered her things around her, almost regal. She cast an evil smile. "Oh, Eubes! Don't you know the Black family empire has always had a way of dodging unpleasantries? With a skill as old as time..." She smiled, as she reached out her hand, to disparate them away.

The distant words of "Black Magic..." on her lips as they left the falling empire behind, and the Roman Soldiers pausing, thinking they heard something. But they were too late to get the lady of the Manor.

Hopefully 504 would be a better year, indeed.


End file.
